Story One, Chapter One. (Working title.)
by maggie5
Summary: Harry does battle with a force beyond the grave as alliances crumble, friends are lost, and relationships altered in ways we never imagined they could be. Heavy angst themes, character death, slight imagery, m/m slash, allusions to physical/sexual abuse.


We all know they belong to J.K. Rowling, and I don't think anyone else's been sued yet, have they? The rating is for a reason, children…allusions to m/m slash (or perhaps mild description? Unsure as of yet), abuse, both physical and sexual, heavy angst, character death, cannibalistic-if-well- characterised Voldemort, and loads of other good stuff! And, well, if you haven't pressed the back button, I'm going to ask you to stick with this. I'm editing the other parts as you're reading this, and more are in short order, 11 by the end of the week if all goes well. Stick with me, please, I promise it gets better.    
  
1 Part 1  
  
Harry Potter sat cross-legged on his bed, trying in vain to concentrate on his History of Magic essay, but found his thoughts kept drifting back to one thing: Voldemort. The Dark Lord had risen; Harry had seen it happen.  
  
It had been haunting his mind ever since he had returned to Privet Drive. Harry had been unable to focus on his homework or anything else in particular. It was now mid July, and Harry had heard from Ron a few times. Each letter was the same: "Don't let the Muggles get you down, Mum says Dumbledore will tell us when you can come." Which, of course, didn't help Harry in the least. He found himself being woken increasingly by sharp aches in his scar and vivid nightmares...so much so that he now feared sleep.  
  
He longed once more for the presence of a father figure…Sirius. He wished his godfather could have remained with him after the Triwizard Tournament, as he took immense comfort in his company, but, alas, Sirius, like so many others, had to do his part to thwart the progress of Lord Voldemort.  
  
He felt his eyes drooping shut of their own accord. No…he thought. Mustn't…He stood up to avoid the calling of sleep. Stretching, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was still a scrawny, underweight boy…heavy bags under his eyes…if it hadn't been for his height, one might have thought he was older than 14…  
  
Certainly, some of the things he'd been through would have been enough to age anyone. Beatings from his uncle were an astonishing regularity, as were his more covert nightly visits. His summers were hell, and school was only slightly better…the dark shadow that was the Dark Lord seemed to ensnare everyone and everything with paralysing fear…and always come for him…  
  
He glanced at the clock. Midnight. His uncle would come soon.  
  
And come he did. At the end of it, Harry was so sore and exhausted that he felt he would pass out. He couldn't go on like this for much longer without sleep. He fell into the soiled bed…  
  
"Excellent," purred the robed figure on the throne, his voice throaty and hoarse. He picked his teeth with a splinter of what seemed to be some sort of bone, then threw it carelessly into a dish beside him. "My young nemesis gets a…taste…of my wrath." He chuckled at the pun. "A rib, Malfoy," he said, the man beside him, who was holding a silver platter. Malfoy pressed the requested cut into his hand.  
  
"My son has mentioned the Mudblood as well, my lord. He says if you do not strike her down as well, then their bond will strengthen. Tragedy has a tendency to make the child rely on others…if they are snatched from him, he will be helpless."  
  
"I did not ask for your council, Lucius…bring your son."  
  
"At once, my lord."  
  
"Apparition wards shall be lifted for exactly three minutes."  
  
Malfoy bowed and offered him the platter of carnage with a flourish, then exited.  
  
Voldemort grinned as Malfoy left. He picked a human head from the plate. It had red hair. He looked it in its glassy eyes. "Well, Weasley, you have served your purpose. Your death will undoubtedly cause our dear Potter intense inner turmoil. Perhaps I shall mount you on a pole to greet him when my fortress embraces its…guest," he said, with much gusto. "Yes, Harry Potter will be a most entertaining prisoner…and speaking of entertainment, Weasley, you are certainly a lovely meal. Your ribs are a delicacy. Allow me to sample a thigh…" He reached onto the platter. "Mmmm."  
  
Harry sat up, his scar burning. Ron…  
  
Ron was dead.  
  
***  
  
            


End file.
